If I Fall Behind
by losthighway21
Summary: Jack and Rose were only ever friends on the Titanic. But when Rose finds Jack on the Carpathia, she resolves to run away with him anyway. What will happen to them? Where will they go? Will they ever realize their feelings for each other, or will they be forever bound by their own personal sets of chains?
1. Chapter 1

In this story, the events after the third class party with Jack and Rose didn't happen. They developed no romantic relationship beyond their flirting. We begin with Rose on the Carpathia, assuming she got in the first lifeboat with her mother.

The word freezing had lost meaning to me. Numbness has taken its place. I've been numb since Titanic struck the iceberg that would take it down. Perhaps it's selfish, to be so stricken when I'd been safe in a lifeboat the entire time,but mind you, I felt every emotion they did.

It was like watching a terrifying motion picture and not being able to leave the theatre. All you could do was watch. Watch and wait. Wait to die. Wait to live. Wait for an absolution, that will never come.

Now my mother and Cal and I were sitting in the first class dining room of the Carpathia, bundled up in blankets and drinking hot tea. For once, no one was speaking. I saw a good majority of the first class women that had been on board. Some were crying, some seemed entirely unaffected. But all looked a bit lost. A good amount of men seemed missing. I tried to be childish and think that perhaps they were on a different ship, or lifeboats that had yet to be unloaded, but being a child was impossible after last night. We had all lost whatever innocence we'd possessed. I knew the truth, most of the men were dead. Men I hadn't cared for, but would have never wished harm. I was overpowered with a sudden anger. How was it that decent men could die in such a terrible way? Who could allow this? And why weren't we all mourning those who were lost? I ran a hand over my cheek in hopes of moving a t that had fallen into my eyesight and was surprised at what I found.

Tears. Wet, hot, tears. I hadn't realized that I was crying. I immediately wiped them away. What right did I have to cry when I hadn't lost anything but my peace of mind?

I locked eyes with Cal. I prayed I might find some sympathy there, that he might reach his hand out and wipe my tears away, or pull me to his chest and kiss my hair. I wanted him to whisper sweet nothings that he'd never bothered with before.

He didn't. He just stared at me. A cold, almost angry stare. He looked tired. His hair was mussed and his head rested in his hand. He was paler than I'd ever seen him. Despite his weak appearance, to me he looked like the devil. Tears flooded my eyes once again as my fear of him and my sadness over Titanic mixed. I let out a helpless squeak, sounding like a wounded animal.

"Rose?" my mother asked. "Are you alright?"

"No." was all I managed to get out before I stormed out of the room.

I hear her voice behind me, begging me to come back, but I kept walking. I walked through endless corridors, ignoring the steward's inquiries.

"Do you need something miss?"

"Are you lost?"

Surely they had never seen a first class woman walking with such purpose before. We had nowhere we needed to be. Nothing we needed to do. We strolled leisurely through life, with rarely a glance behind or ahead of us. It was all taken care of.

Eventually I came to a narrow staircase that led out to an open deck. Air. That was exactly what I needed. I hurried down it and quickly slowed my pace when I saw where I was. A third class deck. With third class passengers. I froze. I saw families crying together, women begging stewards to help them find their husbands, children with no parents. I saw real, raw emotion, nothing like I'd seen last night or this morning. So many must have lost their lives, their loves, their hope. I remembered how few third class passengers I'd seen in the boats. Where had they been? They had to have been the first to know the ship's fate, being at the bottom. Oh God. What happened.

I walked to the railing of the ship and looked out at the cruel, heartless sea. No longer could I see any beauty in something that had taken so many lives. The ocean. Lives. My life. What else could an iceberg ruin?

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder.

_Please don't be Cal. Please don't be Cal._

I turned around. Cal it was not. It was a tall, lanky young man of about 20. His blue eyes spoke sorrow and understanding. Understanding of my pain. Sorrow for his own. Memories flashed before me.

_Don't do it._

_Do you love him?_

_Life's a gift, and I don't intend on wasting it._

_Make it count. Meet me at the clock._

_We'll have to get a little bit closer._

_You go mailed to the wrong address._

_Something I can't have._

I stood looking at him for a long while. He was pale as a ghost, his lips chapped, his body slouching, not just because of his devil-may-care attitude, but because it seemed he simply couldn't hold his body and it's grief upright. He looked like hell. Or at least like he'd been through it.

"Rose." he spoke simply.

His voice sent my over the edge. That beautiful, masculine tone, that had always sounded so optimistic to me was now completely disheartened. It was a mere croak of what it had been before. But it was still Jack, a man who I'd come to care for and trust more than myself in a mere three days. So I ran into his arms.

He felt surprisingly sturdy for all he'd been through. I sobbed into his already damp shirt and he clutched my curls so tightly it was almost painful. I felt his body shake and heard him let out a slight, choking sob.

"Oh Rose." he spoke into my neck, sounding slightly hopeful and relieved.

I held him tighter and cried harder. But I was almost happy. With all the pain around me, at least I still had this. Here, I was safe. Here, I was free to feel and be. Here, I didn't have to hide a thing. His arms were my sanctuary.

"Jack." I whispered into his shirt.

"Jack, Jack, Jack." Everything I needed to say was in his name. Thank you. I'm so glad you're here. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Help me.

"It's gonna be okay Rose. It's gonna be okay."

And I believed him. I believed every word.

He pulled back a bit, still leaving his hands on my shoulders.

"What happened to you? You got into a boat right? And what about your mother? And...Cal? What about Cal?" he shot questions at me rapidly.

I took a deep breath.

"I'm fine. I got into one of the first boats lowered. My mother and Cal are okay too. But it doesn't matter. What happened to_ you?_ How did you survive?" I asked.

His mouth spread into a grin, I almost didn't notice the sadness behind it.

"That's what us Dawsons do. We survive." He answered. I knew there was more to it than that, but I was willing to accept it for now. I had something to tell him. Something I needed to say or else I might combust.

"When the ship docks," I paused and smiled widely, "I'm getting off with you."

He looked shocked, then scared, then deliriously happy.

"Are you sure?" he asked, dazed.

"If I've learned anything from you, and from what's happened, it's that life is short. I owe myself happiness. Will you help me?" I asked, knowing the answer. Of course he'd help me. That's what Jack did.

He smiled before hugging me again.

"What do you think?" he said sarcastically.

I laughed. Happiness I deserved, and it seemed like I was finally going to get it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Rose Dawson." I answered when the steward asked my name. Jack's jaw dropped slightly and his eyebrows rose. A hot, timid blush rose to my cheeks.

"Thank you, love. And you sir?" he asked Jack, who's eyes were still fixated on me. His gaze made me uncomfortable and I looked away.

"Jonathan Dawson." he answered absentmindedly. The steward thanked him and scurried away. An awkward silence took his place.

Jack sighed and leaned back against the railing. We'd been standing here for hours and he didn't express a desire to move. It was my theory that he simply liked to be on the edge of everything. If there wasn't a clear way out of a situation he didn't feel safe. At least if he was at the railing and things got too heavy, he could jump. I suspected that despite his lithe figure and apparent lack of muscle, he could make it to Manhattan. I watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a disgusting looking mush of white paper and a lighter. He stared at his hand for a moment and then chuckled sadly before throwing the sopping wet cigarettes into the ocean and putting the lighter back in his pocket. I didn't have the heart to tell him that probably wasn't going to work either.

"I didn't know your full name was Jonathan." I spoke first. He looked me up and down for a moment before responding.

"I didn't know we were related." he responded. My blush deepened. His comment was a hidden request for an explanation.

"It would be easier on my mother to have a daughter who died rather than a daughter who ran away." I told him. It was true, my mother wasn't the nicest woman in the world, but her reputation meant the world to her and I figured sparing her humiliation was the least I could do. Of course, this arrangement would benefit Cal as well, but some things just couldn't be helped.

"I see," he nodded, "just don't go getting any ideas."

I turned toward him and saw an expression of jocularity, laced with nervousness. It was yet another veiled attempt to acquire my real opinion. He was good at that.

"Don't be silly." I simply said, putting on the airs I knew would make him feel ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing. I was good at that.

A brief flash of something I couldn't quite put my finger on ran over his face before he recovered quickly.

"Right then. I'm going to go see if I can find us some food."

And with that he was off, and I was left alone to ponder the slight disappointment I felt in my heart when he told me not to get any "ideas." Ideas about what? Marriage? Surely it was the last thing on his mind, wandering artists don't marry, and if they do, they don't marry runaway rich girls. Furthermore it was the last thing on my mind as well. I just broke an engagement to Lucifer himself mere hours ago. Not to mention, Jack and I had only known each other for three days. Hardly long enough to constitute marriage, or even a courtship. No, I assured myself. This was not some romantic rich girl runs away with poor boy situation. This was me. This was me choosing to escape a life of boredom and unbearable emptiness for something more exciting. I was the main character in this play, the poor boy was simply part of the supporting cast. Still, I couldn't deny the romance of it all. I couldn't deny how beautiful his eyes were. I couldn't deny I'd harbored a crush for him on the Titanic.

"Stop it." I told myself. "Don't be like this. This isn't going to work if you fall in love with him."

Still though, when I saw Jack pushing through passengers on his way back to me, spilling small amounts of soup from the bowls he held in his hands and he looked up at me with a lopsided, boyish grin, I felt my heart swell.

Oh no, not this again.

_November 1911_

_It was my 17th birthday. My mother fluttered around me as I got ready for the evening's festivities. There was to be a party in my honor. I was not looking forward to it._

_Trudy was lacing up my gown as my mother spoke to me about Caledon Hockley, the great steel tycoon who would be attending tonight._

_"He's of fine breeding, Rose. Not to mention the money he has. It would do you well to impress him, which I have no doubt you will. Thank goodness your beauty makes up for your rudeness, most of the time at least." she rattled on._

_I closed my eyes and counted to ten. It was a technique my father used when he had been frustrated by my mother's nitpicking. Humoring her, he had called it. I felt a pang of sadness when I thought of my father. It had been 7 months since his death and I still felt it all around me. I had only been granted 6 weeks of mourning before my mother had begun searching for a suitable husband._

_"After all, two women can't live alone for too long, now can they?" she'd said at breakfast one morning._

_"I don't see why not." I argued. She glared. At the time though, I truly hadn't seen why we couldn't go on as we had been. I knew I would have to marry eventually, but I was hoping I had more time. I knew having a deadline would almost guarantee an arranged marriage. I shuddered at the thought._

_It wasn't until a few months later that I'd found out the true reason for my sudden need for a man. My father had left next to nothing for us in his will. For the most part, there was nothing to leave. The man everyone had thought to be wealthy and upstanding turned out to have a nasty high-stakes gambling habit that had been draining his bank account steadily for the past several years. My mother had been shocked and appalled. I had simply been shocked. How could I judge a dead man for his actions?_

_I tried my best to scare off any eligible bachelor who came near me, but all too many of them weren't afraid. I supposed that perhaps I had been something they'd been warned about._

_"Young girls are spirited in the beginning, but you can stomp that out easily." their fathers would tell them. It was sad how true that was._

_I looked myself over in the mirror when Trudy had been excused by my mother. I ran a hand over the delicate beads on my dress, prepping myself for the real talk my mother would give me now. No one was here to watch and Caledon Hockley wasn't a mother's fantasy for her young daughter anymore. He was a life line._

_"Rose." she spoke warningly. I took a deep breath._

_"I know." I sighed. For once she didn't continue. She simply nodded and exited the room._

_Time was up. The games I played were over. I mourned for my childhood, but picked up my gown and followed her just the same._

_If I had known what I was in for, I might've ended it all then and there._

_I was standing in the courtyard of our Philadelphia home when I'd first met Caledon Hockley. I'd managed to escape the craziness of the evening for a few moments of solitude._

_I sighed and admired the beauty of the lights bouncing off of the damp ground. The rain that had fallen that morning left raindrops on the red roses that surrounded the small area. I fingered a petal and remembered what my father had always told me._

_"Your name is Rose not just because you're beautiful like one. It's because you have thorns."_

_I swallowed the lump in my throat. Where were these thorns when I needed them? I ran my hand over the vine and squeezed slightly, allowing a particularly sharp thorn to prick my finger, just for the reminder that roses really did have them. It was then that I felt a presence behind me. An intoxicating cold._

_"It's ironic isn't it? That something so beautiful can wound so badly." a male voice uttered. He was very close. I could feel the heat from his chest against my back. I fought the urge to whimper and tried to control my erratic breathing. Despite my best attempts, my voice sounded positively weak when I finally spoke._

_"Yes." I squeaked. I turned around slowly and was met with a tall, handsome man with perfectly white teeth and warm brown eyes. He smiled slyly and my heart beat rapidly in my chest. He was so close to me. Men in my society were rarely so forward. It was the stark contrast about him that I loved._

_"Maybe he's like me." I remember thinking._

_He was not._

_He took my hand and kissed it gently._

_"Caledon Hockley." he introduced himself. I'd expected as much. Mother most likely sent him out there. For once, I was grateful._

_"Rose Dewitt-Bukater." I told him, as if he didn't already know._

_That smile stayed plastered on his face. In his mind, I believe, he'd already won._

I sighed as Jack handed me a bowl of soup. He let fingers linger against mine a bit longer than I deemed necessary, long enough to ask if I was alright.

"I'm fine." I said politely. He looked unconvinced, but accepted my answer nonetheless. He ate quickly and a bit sloppily, but it must've been at least a day since his last meal, so that could easily be forgiven. I was starved as well, but I couldn't help but take the more polite approach. I watched him set his bowl down on the deck and turn to me. He seemed amused by my dainty eating habits. I willed myself to speed up. He seemed as though he had something to say. I looked up at him when I was done. He folded his rough hands and bit his lip slightly, as if he was mincing words in his mind.

"Rose." he finally said, with a shockingly gentle and caring voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you really want to do this?" he questioned. He moved my hair behind my ear and his hand lingered against my cheek. I closed my eyes.

"Of course." I answered plainly. I knew full well it wouldn't be easy. But I was prepared. He smiled slightly and took his hand away from my cheek.

"Alright then. Congratulations Rose Dawson." he teased. I smiled brightly. That was yet another good thing about Jack. He never questioned me.

I would later realize this had to do with a little thing called trust, something I had quite a bit to learn about.


End file.
